


Fret not Dear Heart

by Jaskiers_BrokenLute



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Ficlet Collection, Fix-It, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geraskier, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Prompt Fill, Self-Indulgent, Short & Sweet, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, no beta we die like witchers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:47:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23226565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaskiers_BrokenLute/pseuds/Jaskiers_BrokenLute
Summary: Short fics from random inspiration I get to write Geralt/Jaskier but not make a full fledged fanfiction1. "You're hurting me"2. "It was not your fault but mine"
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 143





	1. You're hurting me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of fluff with a wee bit of hurt/comfort following the prompt "you're hurting me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this at 5am and never edited so if its horrible i am sorry

It wasn't long ago that Jaskier had gotten especially drunk and spilled his heart out to Geralt, it was a far cry from how usually well-spoken he was, in fact it was hardly decipherable, but there were three little words among the mess of noises he made that were hard to ignore, even for someone as good at it as Geralt. 

The next morning, after Geralt had sat awake all night trying ot convince himself that Jaskier didn't mean it, he fell in love with nearly everyone he met and Geralt was simply the person in the room when a beyond tipsy bard decided he needed someone else to fall in love with.   
Though of course, Jaskier didn't stay with all those people he loved for more than a day at most, he always moved on to the next person as if the previous one had disappeared from his memory completely. 

With Geralt, he stayed, since that day in Posada.   
Yes, they parted every few weeks, sometimes for only a few days, sometimes for agonizingly long months, like in the winter months when Geralt would return to Kaer Morhen and Jaskier to Oxenfurt. But they always came back together in the end, sometimes not even purposely, they always found each other. 

Jaskier never sought out those flings he'd leave behind. That didn't mean he loved him though, right?

Thoughts like these bumped around in Geralt's mind for hours while Jaskier slept off the alcohol.   
He would steal glances at Jaskier any time the bard made a sound in his sleep or shuffled to the other side of the bed. It was odd, seeing Jaskier after he had unknowingly confessed his love to Geralt. 

He even considered not telling Jaskier it had happened it when he woke up and inevitably couldn't remember anything past his fourth mug of ale.   
But then, he'd never felt for someone the way he felt for Jaskier. 

There was no name for the feeling that he could think of, he wasn't good with words or emotions, so the entire situation was far from ideal for him.   
He did understand though, that it wasn't fair to keep this from Jaskier, and it certainly wasn't fair to himself to let the thoughts that came with this whole ordeal to plague him for who knows how long. 

So, when morning came he broached the subject slowly. 

Jaskier had woken up with a hell of a hangover, gratefully taking the water Geralt offered him once he'd sat up. 

"We need to talk, about last night." Geralt had said, his stomach twisting into unfamiliar knots as he sat at the end of the bed, refusing to meet Jaskier's eyes. 

"Oh god, what did I do?" 

"You said something, to me." 

Jaskier's stomach sank, he was by no means a romantic drunk, but he was a very talkative drunk, even more, talkative than usual if you can believe it. Alcohol just seemed to remove the filter between his head and his mouth completely.   
He dreaded to think about Geralt sat there, trying to let Jaskier down gently before he took his leave, abandoning Jaskier in this shit-hole town because the idiot couldn't just keep his stupid more-than-a-small-crush on the witcher to himself. 

"I'm sorry if it's what I think it is I never meant to tell you," He responded, his hangover nearly forgotten over the sinking feeling inside of him. 

"Why? You're not prone to holding in anything else." 

"You'd be surprised," He answered with a small, humourless laugh. 

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him, slightly offended and very curious as to what Jaskier could possibly want to hide from him. 

"Pretend I didn't say that, anyway, if you want to leave now it's okay. I understand."

"What?"

"You're leaving, right? I mean I know you don't even consider me a friend so this must be crossing more than a few lines for you, and you wouldn't be the first person opposed to my, more open preferences. I won't be upset with you is what I'm trying to get at, I mean I will be upset but-

"Jaskier." He interrupted his rambling, placing a hand on Jaskier's knee causing the bard to look up at him. 

"Did you mean it?" He asked, something like hope in his golden eyes. 

"Of course I meant it," 

"Then I'm staying,"

*****

Geralt hadn't said it back for a few weeks, not with words at least, and Jaskier was more than patient with him while he sorted through his jumbled emotions to figure out that he truly does love Jaskier back. 

The struggle was all worth it when Jaskier's face completely lit up, his eyes brighter than he'd ever seen them. He'd go through it all over again, every day to see that look. 

Surprisingly, not much had changed between the two of them, there were more casual touches, kissing when no one could see, blissful nights spent under the stars, more two-sided conversations as Geralt tried to live up to all that Jaskier saw in him. 

Another thing that didn't change, Jaskier could still get on every last one of Geralt's nerves.   
He got good at ignoring it, but sometimes after a particularly long day, he would snap, shouting or simply up and leaving. 

He always felt horrible for hours after, it wasn't Jaskier's fault. Okay, sometimes it was Jaskier's fault, but he still didn't deserve the cruel and callous treatment from his lover. 

Even with the guilt, the cycle never really ended, including tonight. 

They'd been walking for hours, the last contract Geralt took on turned out to be a scam, the contract owner skipping town before he could collect his reward and on top of that, Jaskier has been talking the.entire.time. 

Normally Geralt could tune it out, but today every word grated down on him wearing down his already thin patience. Somehow they made it to the nearest town without Geralt's anger boiling over, he couldn't shout at Jaskier for being in a better mood than him, but it was a near thing. 

The plan from here was to immediately retire to an inn and sleep off the stress of the day together, Jaskier wrapped up in Geralt's arms and blessedly silent as he drifted off listening to the witcher's slow heartbeat. 

Jaskier apparently had other plans. 

"Sit, we always get paid better when the star of the songs is present." He pushed Geralt down onto a seat the second they walked through the door, b-lining to the front of the tavern to introduce himself and ask to perform. 

When Geralt tried to leave straight into the quiet and privacy of their room, Jaskier had grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him back, 

"At least one song," He pouted, shoving him back into the hard chair, ignoring the growl of protest. 

"Jaskier," He started, interrupted by the sound of Jaskier testing the strings of his lute to ve sure they still maintained their tune from his last session. 

It seemed the ugly noise of an out of tune chord was it look for his remaining calm to desert him entirely.  
He shot up and out of the seat, grabbing Jaskier by the wrist and beginning towards the stairs.   
Geralt only meant to pull him to the room and explain that he needed rest, Jaskier would understand and he could play for the people tomorrow when Geralt had slept for more than a few hours and could actually suffer through people cheering him and literally throwing coins at him. 

"Hey, Geralt!" He cried indignantly, trying to pull free from the witcher's grasp, who strengthened his hold in retaliated. 

"Let go, you brute!" He dug his heels into the ground, only succeeding in losing his footing and stumbling as Geralt continued towards the stairs, his hand too tight around Jaskiers thin wrist and his pace too fast for Jaskier to catch up properly. 

"Just wait a damned second" He tried once more, to no avail, his wrist beginning to ache under the pressure. 

"Fuck, Geralt you're hurting me!" 

Geralt dropped his wrist as if he'd been burnt, taking a step back from the bard.

Jaskier was set to simply follow him up to the room, but when he looked up after regaining his footing he was met with Geralt's wide-eyed face, staring at Jaskier how he imagined monsters looked at Geralt when they realized they were about to be killed. 

Hurt him. He'd hurt Jaskier, physically hurt him just because he wanted to make them extra coin after Geralt hadn't gotten paid. He ignored Jaskier trying to push him off and hurt him.   
Fuck, he knew he was going to ruin this, it was too good to be true, but he never thought it would be this soon.

Without another word, Geralt pushed passed Jaskier and straight back out the door, no destination in mind, but he knew Jaskier wouldn't want to be around him right now, or ever again. How could he, he'd hurt him. 

"Geralt," Jaskier watched as he left the building, going after him only a second later. 

"Geralt stop!" He called when he saw the older man heading for the stables, running to catch up with him. 

"Gods Geralt, come back inside, what are you doing?" He stepped in front of him putting a hand on his armoured chest to stop him retreating any further. 

Geralt's head dropped to his chest, the bone-deep exhaustion setting in on top of the hurt of knowing he'd messed up the one great thing he had. 

"Oh, Geralt it's okay." He raised a hand to Geralt's jaw, lifting his head to look him in the eye. 

"I'm okay, we're okay." 

"I hurt you," He bit out, leaning into Jaskier's hand like it was the last time he'd be able to take comfort from the man. 

"I'm fine, not even a mark," He lifted his wrist to prove it, the skin he's been holding was slightly reddened but the colour retreating swiftly. 

"See? I'm fine. As if I'd let go of you that easily you oaf." He laughed, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck and pushing himself as close to the man as he could, melting into him when he felt familiar arms pull him closer around his waist. 

"I'm sorry," He breathed into Jaskier's neck. 

"It's okay, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you, I know you're tired and it's been a shit day, you deserve some rest, my love." 

Geralt could feel himself relaxing into Jaskier's arms, relief flooding through him as he held his bard close, he truly didn't deserve him. 

"Let's go back inside," He pulled away, running his hands along with the witcher's cheekbones and back through his hair while he smiled softly up at him. 

He nodded back, taking Jaskier's hand in his own, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before dropping their entwined hands to his side, leading Jaskier inside. 

"I love you Geralt, remember that next time you decide to try and run away from me, okay?" He squeezed Geralt's hand as he spoke, trying to imprint the message into his stupid witcher's head. 

"I love you too Jaskier," he answered, never removing his eyes from Jaskier's face while he lit up once again, more beautiful than anything could ever attempt to be. More than he deserved and all that he cherished, never again would he let pain cross those features, never at his own hands. 

"I know,"


	2. Little Lion Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fix it for episode 6 inspired by Little Lion Man by Mumford and sons. Specifically the line "It was not your fault by mine, and it was your heart on the line, I really fucked it up this time didn't I my dear?"

Of course. Of course Geralt would show up in the town Jaskier had just stopped in for the night, very clearly see him and proceed to not even acknowledge his existence. 

Now, Jaskier is the one who has to up-route his plans and move onto the next town right when he was about to fill his coin purse and possibly drown his sorrows in ale that didn't taste like piss. 

With a huff, he picked up his lute from where he had just placed it on the ground and apologized to the tavern owner, making up some excuse as to why he had to leave after promising a performance. At least he hadn't already paid for a room. 

He spared one last look at the corner Geralt had shoved himself into, the witcher wouldn't even meet his eye. Not that he expected him to, hoped, yes, but not expected. 

It had only been a little over a week since the mountain since Geralt's true feelings had come to light. 

At first, Jaskier expected him to take the time he needed to cool down before he realized Jaskier wasn't what he'd claimed him to be, not just a burden, find him, apologize, and things would go back to the way they were meant to be.   
He'd even made his descent down the mountain unnecessarily slow so Geralt could catch up to him quickly when his emotions had sorted themselves out. 

It was easy to understand that Geralt would be easily overwhelmed by emotions when he didn't even believe himself to have them, so Jaskier was patient with him, always had been, and just because he got the brunt end of his aggression this time that wouldn't change.   
He could bear a little hurt for Geralt. 

But patience can only be spread so thin before it snapped. 

That happened when he'd reached the bottom and Geralt was nowhere in sight, clearly not coming for him. 

Then Jaskier couldn't deny that the emotional turmoil Geralt was facing may have been, in actuality, a truth that he had never had the cause nor the guts to vocalize. Maybe he truly only saw the bad Jaskier had brought, only suffered through his presence out of some twisted sense of obligation. 

That thought hurt, he'd prefer Geralt left him a long time ago than simply trail him along while all the time wishing he weren't there. 

The self-pity wallowing only lasted a few days, then he was angry. Jaskier had done more for that damned witcher than he ever had reason to, more than anyone ever had.   
Twenty-two years of his life spent clearing his reputation, patching him up, making the path less lonely, bringing in coin, and so much more. 

And what did he get in return? Insults, glares, threats, left behind, shouted at.  
Occasionally a soft smile, maybe a line of banter, a joke god forbid. Sometimes a warm body to sleep next to. 

Ah, fuck, no. Geralt wasn't warm, he wasn't smiles by the fire or the dreams Jaskier had at night. He was a blind, oaf of a witcher that couldn't see all that Jaskier had done for him. He never cared for Jaskier, and now Jaskier has to change his plans because the big buffoon is too thick to accept his mistakes. 

Of course, he doesn't actually have to leave the inn just because Geralt is here, but he also doesn't want to have to see the look on Geralt's face when he would start singing.   
Didn't want to see the hateful stare that was already burned into his memory. 

He couldn't take that right now, the wound had just recently closed and it would do no good to re-open it. 

So without another thought, he left, leaving the safety, food, bed, coin, and Geralt behind in the dead of night praying he would find somewhere safe to sleep, or somewhere to sleep at all for that matter. 

He didn't make it very far before the inn door behind him swung open and closed again, the sound of someone else leaving just behind him.   
He paid no mind to the noise, only securing his hold on the lutestring wrapped around his front and making sure the dagger he kept in his boot was at the ready if the footsteps came towards him instead of the other way. 

Since nothing ever seems to go his way these days, the heavy footsteps came towards him, quickly. 

Not as quick as him, however. His years of training as a noble on top of the skills he acquired from traveling with Geralt for so long had made him quite competent when it came to self-defense. He was no witcher, but he wasn't to be reckoned with either. 

Before whoever was behind him could strike he stopped in his tracks, bending down suddenly and retrieving the dagger, making sure the person was directly behind him when he did, so when he stood back up and twisted around on his heels the blade of the dagger was pressed against the neck of his follower. 

Golden eyes widened when the cold metal met his skin, his hands raising up to his head in a clear show of surrender, that he certainly wouldn't have spared if his attacker were anyone but Jaskier. 

"What the fuck, Geralt!" He shouted, dropping the blade as if it had burnt him, horrified that he had come that close to hurting Geralt, even if he'd like nothing more than to throttle him, a knife to the jugular was a bit much. 

"I want to talk," He grunted, dropping his arms back to his sides once the threat of being stabbed had gone. 

"That's a first," He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"What do you want to talk about, were you not finished last time? Not hurled enough abuse?"

"Jaskier-"

"Not gone through our every encounter and pointed out every way I fucked up, how I did nothing but rain shit upon your previously perfect life!" 

The anger he had been feeling boiled over now that he had Geralt in front of him, it wasn't fair, Geralt had no right to say those things and now he would have to stand and damn well listen to Jaskier for once. 

"Oh no, how dare that idiot Jaskier get kidnapped by elves, attacked by a djinn, or try to steer me away from the crazy sorceress who would do nothing but hurt me! The audacity of that bard to force me up that mountain and not try and tell me it was a bad idea! Oh, how he ruined my life the day he made me claim the law of surprise and certainly didn't tell me to keep a low profile at the banquet!"

"Jaskier, just-

"All I ever did was try to help you Geralt! I am sorry that things didn't work out for you, I'm sorry she left, I'm sorry destiny screwed you over so many times, for anything that I unintentionally did to hurt you, I am sorry. But it wasn't myfault." 

He'd lost his spark by the end of his rant, the anger giving way to the exhaustion he hadn't known he'd been carrying ever since he let himself believe what Geralt had said was true. 

He was tired of it all, of trying to find a new normal after everything he knew was ripped out from under him, of trying to make sense of the way Geralt saw him, of everything. 

"I know." Geralt broke the silence, head down, and voice so much different than Jaskier had ever heard it, resigned almost. 

"What?"

He hadn't expected this, mostly he'd expected Geralt to get angry, or simply turn back around and leave, but he didn't expect agreement. 

"It wasn't your fault, but mine." 

Jaskier was stunned into silence, the way Geralt spoke almost made him want to comfort the witcher, he always hated seeing him unhappy, which was more often than not, but never like this. But he couldn't not until he'd forgiven the man. 

"I really fucked it up this time, didn't I?" He finally looked up at Jaskier, his face had lost the constant mask he wore to keep people from approaching him, he looked painfully sincere in his words. 

His eyes always were the give away to how he felt, and Jaskier saw nothing but pain, regret, sadness like he'd known all too well. 

"Yeah," He breathed, almost a laugh. 

"And the worst part is I was so ready to forgive you Geralt. I understand that it's hard for you, and so much was happening, I'd be shocked if you didn't lash out if I'm being perfectly honest, but you left me there like it wouldn't even matter if I made it to the bottom of that damned mountain,"

"I'm sorry," He breathed, the words sounding like they'd been dragged through broken glass in his throat. 

"I know," 

"Was that what you needed? To get it off your chest and move on?" He asked after Geralt stayed silent. 

"No, I- fuck I didn't plan this far." 

Jaskier tried to fight the twitch of his lips, biting the inside of his cheek. 

"You planned this?" He asked incredulously. 

"Yes, while I was looking for you. I didn't want to fuck this up too."

"Well, if it's any consolation you've done fine so far." He gave in, letting the smile he'd been fighting onto his face. It was insufferable, how hard it is to stay mad at Geralt when he's standing there like a child who was just learning to speak in full sentences. 

"Oh, where should I go from here then?"

That one earned a full out laugh, something that made relief flow through Geralt's very being. God, he missed that. 

"How about we go inside, because it is fucking freezing out here, you buy me a drink and a meal, and we figure this out in the morning?"

Geralt sighed with a small, barely-there smile on the edge of his lips, "I can do that," 


End file.
